Phyllis McGinley Poems
- Daylight Savings Time In spring when maple buds are red, We ...
- Sunday Poetry: Ballade Of Lost... Where are the ribbons ...
- Daniel At Breakfast his paper propped against the electric ...
- The 5:32 She said, If tomorrow my world were torn in ...
- Reflections At Dawn I wish I owned a Dior dress Made to my ...
- First Lesson The first thing to remember about fathers is, ...
- Ode To The End Of Summer Summer, adieu Adieu gregarious ...
Phyllis McGinley (March 21, 1905 - February 22, 1978) was an American writer of children's books and poet about the positive aspects of suburban life.
McGinley was born in Ontario, Oregon. At age 3, her family moved to Colorado, and on to Ogden, Utah after her father died.
She studied at the University of Southern California and the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, ... more »
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Quotationsmore quotations »
Of course we women gossip on occasion. But our appetite for it is not as avid as a man's. It is in the boys' gyms, the college fraternity houses, the club locker rooms, the paneled offices of business...Phyllis McGinley (1905-1978), U.S. poet, author. "Some of My Best Friends ...," The Province of the Heart (1959).
''Frigidity is largely nonsense. It is this generation's catchword, one only vaguely understood and constantly misused. Frigid women are few. There is a host of diffident and slow-ripening ones.''Phyllis McGinley (1905-1978), U.S. poet, author. "The Honor of Being a Woman," The Province of the Heart (1959).
''Our bodies are shaped to bear children, and our lives are a working out of the processes of creation. All our ambitions and intelligence are beside that great elemental point.''Phyllis McGinley (1905-1978), U.S. poet, author. "The Honor of Being a Woman," The Province of the Heart (1959).
Comments about Phyllis McGinley
Daylight Savings Time
In spring when maple buds are red,
We turn the clock an hour ahead;
Which means, each April that arrives,
We lose an hour out of our lives.
Who cares? When autumn birds in flocks
Fly southward, back we turn the clocks,
And so regain a lovely thing
That missing hour we lost in spring.